


just drive

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 01:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3469694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is in need of a getaway car and Grantaire happens to be in the right place at the right time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just drive

Enjolras wasn’t so sure where exactly he was running. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to keep running either. But Combeferre and Courfeyrac were out on a date tonight, which meant that neither of them would appreciate it if Enjolras called them so they could bail him out of jail. So he had to keep running.

Maybe he could duck into an alley somewhere or he could try to hide in one of the bars lining the street he was running down. He didn’t dare look around to see if the cops were still following him. He turned right into a side street, stumbled down a flight of stairs, never stopping to catch his breath, even though his lungs were burning. Down another narrow street and Enjolras realized that he needed to find an alternative for the running. And soon.

Just when he’d started thinking about jumping into a dumpster and hiding there, he saw a car at the end of the street. A car with someone sitting behind the wheel, to be more specific. He knew that if he did this, he’d have a lot of explaining to do, but it was better than spending the night in a holding cell.

Enjolras yanked open the door and jumped inside the car, finding himself face to face with the guy who occasionally served him his morning coffee at the Musain. Enjolras didn’t know his name, because his nametag always read R. Courfeyrac had spent a lot of time trying to convince Enjolras that the guy’s name was probably something ridiculous like Ringo or Reuben or Ralph, which was why he just went with R. The guy dropped his phone, which he’d been looking down at, staring at Enjolras with wide eyes. “What the–”

“Drive,” Enjolras said and slammed the door shut. “Just drive.”

Maybe he should have added a please, but he had no time for pleasantries right now. The guy frowned at him, but turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of his parking spot, finally giving Enjolras a chance to take a few deep breaths.

“So,” R said conversationally when they’d reached the end of the street, “what just happened?”

“Cops,” Enjolras only said, because his breathing still hadn’t quite gone back to normal and it at least sort of explained things.

“You were running away from the cops?” He laughed. “Holy shit. Wouldn’t have taken you for the type.”

“The type?” Enjolras echoed. Christ, he needed some water. And something to eat. He looked out the window, wondering if the police would bother to find him after this or if they’d just let it go.

R snorted. “I know my car is shitty, but they can’t run that fast.” He turned up the radio, fingers tapping on the steering wheel. “Well, are you gonna tell me where we’re going?”

“I...” Enjolras shrugged. He hadn’t really thought about it, he’d just wanted to get away.

“Come on,” R went on, “you can’t just make me the driver of your getaway car and not tell me where we’re escaping to.”

“You can just drop me off at the next bus stop,” Enjolras said lowly. He could never tell Combeferre and Courfeyrac about this. They’d scold him for nearly getting arrested. And for just hopping into a stranger’s car. Although there was a chance that in the end they’d might find the whole thing hilarious, but Enjolras probably shouldn’t test that theory.

“Aw, come on, that’s no fun.” R grinned at him. “Tell me your story. What did you do?”

“It’s not that interesting,” Enjolras muttered.

“Oh, I bet it’s very interesting,” R said and turned left, pulling into the parking lot of a diner. “I’ll buy you something to drink and a burger, you’ll tell me how Enjolras who takes his coffee with way too much sugar and is weirdly fond of cream and seems to be the most dutiful student on the planet ends up running from the cops.” He grinned. “Or, you know, there’s a bus stop across the street.”

For a second, Enjolras was a little surprised that R knew his name, but then he remembered that he’d written it on paper cups enough times to know. “I’ll pay for dinner,” Enjolras said. He owed him. A lot.

“Honestly,” R said as he got out of the car, “it was a pleasure saving your ass. When you came along, my friend was just telling me that he didn’t have time to hang out tonight, so you really brightened up my evening.”

“Right,” Enjolras said, following him into the diner. “Can I ask you something? I’ve been wondering...”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your name?”

R raise his eyebrows. “Seriously? You must have ordered coffee from me about a billion times and you’ve never managed to take a look at my name tag?”

“Your name tag doesn’t really give a lot away.”

“Good point. Well, I’m Grantaire, happy now?” he said. “Do you want to eat here or get it to go?”

“It’s a pun,” Enjolras said, a little bit in awe. “You know, my friend thought your name was Reuben.” He slowly let his eyes wander around the diner. It was highly unlikely that the two cops who’d caught him earlier would walk into this exact diner, but it still seemed like a bad idea to stick around for too long.

“Reuben?” Grantaire asked, sounding incredibly offended. “Good lord. Please tell your friend that my name is not actually Reuben, okay?”

Enjolras smiled. “I will,” he said. “Do you mind if we get the food to go?”

Grantaire stared up at him for a long moment. “Sure, but I’m honestly starting to wonder what the fuck you did.” He leaned a little closer. “You didn’t kill anyone, did you?”

The girl who was standing in line in front of them turned around, giving the both of them a horrified look.

“ _No_ ,” Enjolras said loudly, “of course not.”

Grantaire snorted. “What was it, then?” he whispered. “Did you rob a bank? Is that why you’re paying for dinner? Because you’re rich now?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and opened his backpack, so Grantaire could take a look at the spray paint cans inside.

“Naughty,” Grantaire muttered, elbowing him in the ribs. “I think I’ll have to completely reevaluate my opinion of you.”

“What–”

“What can I get you two?”

Enjolras spared Grantaire a scowl before he ordered a burger and fries, paying for Grantaire’s food as well just like he’d promised. They made themselves comfortable in Grantaire’s car, eating their food in silence.

Grantaire balled up the paper his burger had been wrapped in with a content sigh. “Thanks for dinner. I’ll drive your getaway car anytime if you promise to buy me food afterwards.”

“I’m not sure if I’ll try this again any time soon,” Enjolras muttered.

“Did you at least get the job done?”

“Not quite,” Enjolras said, making a face. “I was interrupted before I could get the message across.”

“And what was the message?”

“I just wanted to let people know that it’s important for them to make the right choice in the upcoming election,” Enjolras said slowly.

Grantaire raised his eyebrows. “But that would require people to actually _care_ about the upcoming election. Which they don’t. And then they complain a lot, because they’re not happy with the government.” He snatched one of Enjolras’ leftover fries. “But hey, you did make a valiant effort.”

Enjolras pursed his lips and made sure that his fries were out of Grantaire’s reach.

“Ah, I see how it is,” Grantaire said, smirking at him, “you can’t handle the cold hard truth.”

“You’re...” Enjolras trailed off when he saw a police car pull into the parking lot. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Grantaire followed his gaze. “Haha, _shit_ ,” he said, taking the rest of Enjolras’ fries and pulling at his shoulder. “Come on, duck.”

Enjolras did, ending up with his face a little too close to Grantaire’s crotch. “This is...”

“Believe me,” Grantaire mumbled, “this is just as mortifying for me as it is for you. I think they’re just going to Dunkin Donuts, though.” He patted Enjolras’ head. “Wow, you have really soft hair.”

Enjolras cleared his throat, not sure what to do with that comment.

“Sorry,” Grantaire said. “Anyway, they’re here for a sugar rush, not for you.”

Enjolras sat up again, painfully aware of how red his face must be.

Grantaire laughed. “Being a felon is pretty stressful, huh?” he asked, reaching out. “You, um... your hair, it’s...”

Enjolras quickly tugged his fingers through his curls. “I’m not a felon,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “We’ve already established that I didn’t murder anyone.”

“And you didn’t rob a bank, yeah,” Grantaire said, winking at him.

“You’re not going to tell anyone about this, right?”

“No, I won’t call the cops on you, come on. Even though the coffee you order sometimes would actually count as a criminal offense.”

“Please,” Enjolras grumbled. So he liked his coffee with a lot of sugar and a lot of cream and maybe caramel flavor every now and then.

“I’m kidding,” Grantaire said, “orders like yours make my day more interesting.”

Enjolras tried not to smile at that, but didn’t exactly manage.

“Random people jumping into my car make my day more interesting, too.” He started the car again. “So, where do we go next?”

“I... don’t know.” Quite frankly, Enjolras had been expecting that they’d be going separate ways soon. There was a bus stop across the street after all.

“Well, how about dessert?” Grantaire asked. “I know a place.”

This evening was getting stranger and stranger.

“I could also take you home,” Grantaire went on, “I just thought you were a dessert person, you know, since you like sugar so much.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“Let’s go, then,” Grantaire said. He took him to a tiny restaurant all the way across town that only served pies that Enjolras was definitely going to come back to with Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Or maybe with Grantaire.

They ended up back in Grantaire’s car – actually he’d just driven Enjolras back to his apartment, but then Grantaire had started telling him about his favorite restaurants and his job at the Musain and about the dance classes he taught twice a week and all of a sudden it was midnight and somehow they still hadn’t run out of things to talk about.

But Enjolras had an 8 am class and Grantaire had to go to work early in the morning as well. Enjolras knew that because he always bought a cup of coffee to go before said class and Grantaire was usually the one who sold it to him.

“I should go to bed,” Enjolras said, picking up his backpack. “So should you, probably.”

“Probably,” Grantaire said. “Thanks for tonight. I’ve never had dinner with a criminal before. At least I think so. Anyway, it was interesting.”

Enjolras chose to ignore the criminal comment. “I’m the one who should be saying thank you,” he muttered. “So, thanks and I suppose I’ll see you around.”

“Probably tomorrow morning,” Grantaire said, waving at him, waiting until Enjolras was safely inside the building before he drove off.

* * *

“Good morning,” Grantaire greeted him, grinning at him. “Coffee with sugar and cream?”

Enjolras nodded, grinning right back at him. He’d been looking forward to seeing Grantaire again ever since he’d said goodbye to him the night before. Which was strange, because Enjolras usually wasn’t a big fan of anything that involved getting up early.

Grantaire handed over the coffee. “I forgot to give this to you yesterday.”

Enjolras handed him the money for the coffee and picked up the cup with a frown. “Give me what?”

“On the cup,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras looked down at the cup, finding a string of numbers scrawled under his name. “Your phone number?”

Grantaire nodded and put down a paper bag in front of Enjolras.

“I didn’t–”

“On the house,” Grantaire said. “It’s a chocolate muffin. With lots of sugar.”

Enjolras laughed. “Thank you,” he said and picked up the bag. “I’ll call you later.”


End file.
